


Seeing Julia

by FrangipaniFlower



Series: The Recovery Series [3]
Category: Homeland
Genre: Backstory, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Love, Recovery, Semi-smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 04:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6838486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/pseuds/FrangipaniFlower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the same AU as 'Weekend Visit'. Chapter 1 is the extended version of what I posted in response to the 300 word prompt on LJ, chapter 2 is completely new. Chapter 3 will come soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It is a week after Quinn's surgery, four days after Lockhart came to see her in the hospital, two days after talking to Professor Reichenstein. She had to go state-side to get Quinn's files to a specialist Professor Reichenstein had named, she will see him in two days. Plus she has to see the document wizards at Langley, they need some signatures to back up Lockhart's attempt to make her Quinn's guardian. And she needs to see Frannie, needs to hug her, hold her sweet little chubby hands, to know that she is safe and back in her life, cause Quinn gave his life. Fuck, she's crying again.

Quinn...still in coma. She has no idea if he'd agree to what she is about to do now but as she is state-side anyway, she feels she just has to.

And it isn't like she would have an argumnt with him about this anytime soon, if ever. So it is her call. She'll probably better get used to make decisions for him.

A deep breath, ringing the bell. 

A dark-haired woman, beautiful, with the haunted look of someone who's silently griefing but beyond tears, opens the door. Probably she looks the same, just added red-rimmed eyes.

-Yeah? 

-My name is Carrie. May I come in? 

The woman folds her arms over her chest. 

-Why? 

Before Carrie can answer, a dark-haired boy appears in the hallway, slender, dimples, piercing eyes, but brown, not blue. Carrie has to support herself with one hand at the veranda's railing, the boy looks like a younger version of Quinn. Would Jess feel the same if she ever saw Fran?

-Who is it, mom? 

-Yeah, who is it? 

-I'm a friend of Peter Quinn. 

Carrie waits for her words to sink in, tears welling up in the woman's eyes. 

-Please, come in. Johnny, you still need to do your homework, upstairs, now. No soccer training before those are not done.

She leads her into an open kitchen, busying herself with the coffee machine. Carrie notices the week-old newspaper on the counter, she knows the title photo, engraved into her heart forever. 

-Is it about the trust fund? I don't want money. 

-No. Please, sit. What I tell you nobody can know, until I give you other information, can you promise that? 

-Even in death those secrets don't stop? What do you want? I haven't seen him in years. 

Julia cried, silently, but her argueing was agitated.

-Peter's not dead but in a coma. 

A gasp. 

-It's still unclear in what shape he'll be when, if, waking up, but he's alive. So, there is still hope. At least that is what I keep telling myself.

She's crying now too. Tears are never far these days.

-What happened?

-Pretty much of what you probably read or saw on TV. Just, obviously he was not a random civilian kidnapped by them but was on a mission.

-Is he still a soldier?

Interesting, so she didn't know. Careful now.

-Special forces. CIA, these days.

-I see.

-He had penetrated the terrorist cell and they turned tables on him. Badly. Everything went wrong. He didn't have the back up in place like he should had.

Cause I failed him, but she doesn't say this.

-Why do you tell me this? Did he send you? 

Carrie smiles, feeling more tears welling up in her eyes. 

-No, he's far from sending anyone anywhere, but if he had a saying in this, I think, he'd wanted you to know. And no mother should believe the father of her child is dead when he isn't. 

The woman scrutinizes her, then takes her hand. 

-Were you the one he loved? 

\- I was. Or hopefully still am. 

-I saw him about four years ago. He told me about a mission going badly awry. 

-Venezuela?

-Yes. Again. Not his luckiest place in the world. I asked him if there is someone he can talk too, you know, telling the whole story, with all the classified stuff. He spoke about you. I could see he was in love, this time for real. Did he ever tell you about John?

-He did. When the father of my child...

Julia still has her hand and she sees how the knowledge of what they share darts across her face.

-That's why you came, is it? You saw him dying? I am so sorry. And very grateful. Were you...there...again?

With her free hand she pulls a box of Kleenex closer. They both could use one.

-I was with him a few days before. Not that day. I saw the video. And I found him. Dead. Just then, he moved. Just a finger. But he moved. 

-I am so sorry. For, gosh, I'm not going to say 'your loss' cause he's a tough cookie. If anyone can find a way back it's him, ok? 

-I know. 

-Did he ever tell you the story how John came into the picture?

-No. And I don't want to make you telling me. He is a very private man and things between us are...complicated...so it wouldn't be right...

The other woman smiles, a beautiful, knowing, sad smile.

-You two are quite a match. Just know, he wasn't the bad guy when it came to the pregnancy. We both made mistakes. And if there is a second chance, assuming his soldier days will be over, I'd be glad if I can see him one day.

-I'll tell him that...when the time comes.

They sit for a while, remembering the man they both loved. When John calls his mum to drive him to his training, they raise.

-Thank you for coming. Will you tell me if there's a change? Whatever it is? 

-I will. 

Julia brings her to the door. They hug before she leaves. What a remarkable, strong woman, Carrie thinks.

Julia sees her driving away. What a remarkable, strong woman, she thinks. I'm glad he finally found someone who understands him. 

In the evening, she carefully folds the week old paper and puts it in a card box which she then locks away again in a small safe. One day she's gonna tell her son about his father. She hopes she'll not only have a few photographs, a couple of letters with vivid narrations of his travels and a newspaper reporting his horrid torture at hand then. Maybe she can tell John and offer to meet his father. So whereas she still feels the afterpains of the tremendous shock she felt a week before when watching the news, there suddenly is hope, too. Thank you, Carrie, she murmurs and goes downstairs to prepare for the night-shift.


	2. Chapter 2

It was their third weekend and they started to develop some routines, like ordering take-out on Saturdays whereas he cooked Sunday. Saturday was the day without Frannie, and Sunday, after long mornings in bed, Frannie would be around. He still got breakfast in bed on Sunday mornings. Their game never got old and it was - besides all the frustation it brought - their favourite pastime on Saturdays and Sunday mornings. Of course usually one of them lost it in the escalating pleasure and wanted to find a way around the monitor but so far the respective other one had always been realistic enough to stop them before going too far.

He always tried to take his meds late or go without the Tetrazepam because holding Carrie until she was asleep was a pleasure he wouldn't want to miss. She was good at massaging his cramps away so that he often good manage without the muscle relaxant.

And anything which involved being close to her was fine with him, it was like all those months had opened a deep well of yearning, he had fought against it for so long and now he was done fighting and couldn't get enough of her.

After that first monday morning they hadn't been under the shower together again, he wasn't sure why, but on that rainy Saturday night, they had just finished their usual indian dinner and were putting the containers back to the kitchen, she suggested to have a bath. It had been very hot over the last few days but a thunderstorm around noon had brought a temperature drop.

-Is it just me having a bath? Or a you joining?

-Depends.

-On what? Cause I have a clear preferance.

-Depends on you promising to behave even when your non waterproof little torture box is gone.

-Nobody would ever know.

-We had that discussion. Remember: police officer, you, dead in my bathroom, me naked, police officer doing the math?

-Such a pity your mind is a steel trap of a trained CIA agent and never forgets the tiniest bit. Are you going to wear a bikini?

-Is that you confessing your secret obsessions? I think I don't even have one.

He chuckled at the sight of her puzzled frown.

-No. It's just, you still did not recant the 'I am not allowed in your panties'-dictum, so how will you solve that?

Now she smiled, radiant, god, how much he loved making her smile. He closed the distance between them and pulled her close, bending down to kiss her temple and her ear.

-Or, I could volunteer to help you getting rid of these and we forget about the said dictum. Makes me officially your boyfriend then, I guess. I'd like that.

And then he had undressed her, slowly. He had always thought, well, feared, it might be awkward because it took him long to unbutton her blouse and open the tiny hooks of her bra, but it wasn't awkward at all, quite the opposite. 

Kissing and opening buttons at the same time was not possible, though, but she just smiled, leant back against the wall with closed eyes, one hand around his nape, and let him undress her, seemingly enjoying his attention.

She felt him chuckle when he finally shoved down her briefs.

-So how does it feel, boyfriend?

-Fucking good, took me quite a few years to get that far...

And then she had undressed him, equally slowly. And he had to admit, the deliberate dilatoriness was kind of exciting too.

The warm water did good, he felt his muscles relaxing, even his painful strained right hand. Carrie sat with her back against his chest between his legs.

He hold her in a loose embrace for quite a while, just being together. That, and, well, the view. She moaned when he cupped her breasts with his hands, pleased to feel her nipples getting hard against his palms.

-How does that feel?

-Quinn, what a question...and what a moment to ask...

-Want me to go on for a while, like this?

And he carefully caressed one of the buds with a grating thumb.

Her gasp was his answer. He thought, it was a great thing what one could do under a no sex-policy and wondered, if in another life they ever would have had the patience and trust to get so close and intimate. Probably not.

-Being your boyfriend now, does that allow me to ask if you ever think about it, how it will be?

He thought about it a lot. A lot of pleasant thoughts. And some unpleasant, when pondering too long about what he probably could not to. But right now, she seemed to have no reason to complain, given the small moans she gave while he fondled her breasts.

-Of course I do that. Don't tell me you don't.

He chuckled.

-That's out of question. But you are not the one delaying it.

-Even if I sometimes get carried away in the...heat of the moment...I like us taking it slow. We do things we probably would never if the situation was different. Like this here now.

-Wait...you...thought about this...planned it? Having a bath together?

-No, not planned it. But, yes, thought about it.

He was delighted.

-Just having a bath in terms of getting clean or other things too?

It was getting even better, she flushed. Cute pink.

-I see. Having sex in the bathtub.

-Ever heard of foreplay, Quinn?

He bent down to her ear, whispering into it, while continuing his tender assaults on her nipples.

-Of course. What do you think am I doing here? What else do you think about?

She manoevered around and somehow managed to turn and bring her legs around his waist. Good thing, at least one of us is having years of yoga practice, he thought. She kissed him, being very close now.

-You'll find that out, bit by bit. It's not that I'm giving away all my dark secrets at once. I'd say you're getting a bit ahead of yourself here.

She kissed him again which made it a bit easier.

-But, we can talk about these things, can't we? You don't feel, I don't know, ashamed, when I ask these things?

-I don't know. I never did that before, the way we are doing it now.

That was true. He had never done it that way, so slow, and with so much longing, too.

-I'd like you to feel comfortable with it. With me.

-How about, I promise to get there? It's just, until just a few weeks ago, I wasn't even sure if you'd ever talk to me again, so sometimes I still need to get used to what we are now.

-What made you not give up on me?

-I told you. You moved, behind the glass, for me. And I made a promise, to you, in hospital. Although in winter, when you were already so much better, but so depressed, it was sometimes hard. But my Dad and Maggie never gave up on me. And I tried to tell me, you wouldn't give up on me. So it was my turn. And as long as you allowed me to hold your hand, there was always still kind of a lifeline.

-And if I'd taken that hand away?

-Quinn, I don't know. I won't make me a better person as I am. I still would have loved you. But holding your hand gave me hope. Which I desperatly needed. But I won't lie to you. The last year was hard for me. And it took its toll. Not only from you. Although I know the effects it had on me are not at all the slightest bit similar to what you had and have to cope. So, yes, I still need to get used to what we have now. 

He felt a change of mood he hadn't been aiming for at all.

-Hey, hey, this is not about blaming or interrogating you. It's just that I want to understand how it is, it was, for you. These days it's so often about me, and I want it to be about us, about you. I had a lot of time to think, actually I think, I already started thinking before I was really back, and here's what I always come back to: Not talking is what brought us to Berlin. And I want to make it better, this time. I don't want to fuck it up again.

-And you start with aiming for dirty talk?

Her frown was genuine.

-I thought it might be a start at least. It's not that it comes naturally to me, either.

They both had to laugh and the tension was gone.

-Turn around and let me wash your hair, will you? That's one of the things I wanted to do for a long time.

After talking hadn't been too successful he decided for action speak louder than words and not only washed her hair but slowly lathered her arms, shoulders, back and breasts as well. Especially her breasts. She was soft and pliant under his hands and it was still so new and exciting to be allowed and able to do that, map and explore her body, testing out what she liked that he could carry on for hours.

When they finally came out of the tub and laid on the bed he felt more relaxed as he had all week. Sadly, Carrie had slipped into her PJs right after they had left the bathroom, but in a way it was gorgeous how self-conscious she sometimes still was. Luring him into the bathtub and then wearing PJs. That was classic Carrie, contrary, edgy but still so endearing. So he went for boxers and shirt, sensing she might feel better if he followed her dress code.

Just when he thought they were about to settle for the night, she raised to her knees and took his hand.

-Want me to give you a massage?

-I am just fine. The warm water helped. And I already took some painkillers.

That brought him a stern quizzical look.

-I can touch you just because you like it, not because you need it, you know? And you can ask me for things you like. I like doing this for you.

She was right. Sometimes he just...was not good at getting used to not just being a patient.

-Come here. 

He padded on the spot where she had been until a few seconds ago and wound one arm around her when she was back to his side.

-We'll figure this all out, ok? We'll learn to be good at it. It's just our third weekend, we don't have to be relationships experts by now.

That brought him a laugh.

-We're not doing too bad, I'd say. We didn't even fight yet.

-That is remarkable, for us, isn't it? And yes, I'd like a massage.

She started with his hand and he allowed himself just to give in, stop thinking, just being with her. Her small, slender fingers were slowly working their way over his body and not for the first time he thought that one nearly could say it had been worth all the shit it had needed them to get here. Almost.

It was much later when she curled in his arm, head on his shoulder.

-Quinn? Can I tell you something before you go to sleep?

-Uhm?

-I promise it is the last long kept revelation.

-Now you got me curious.

-I saw Julia.

Three words. Like a well-placed punch in the guts. He felt nauseous. 

-Shit, Carrie...

-Wait. Let me explain, will you?

She waited for a second and when he didn't say anything, she went on.

-I saw her twice, actually. The first time a week after your surgery. The second time when we came back state-side permanently.

-Why?

-Oh Quinn, she saw you dying on TV. She thought you died in that chamber. And she saw it in the primetime news. And as you didn't state her as next of kin with the agency nobody did give her the truth, nobody knew about her.

-She is not...next of kin.

-But she's the mother of your child. And no mother should see her baby's father being tortured and killed. And especially if there's still hope she should know. I couldn't let her live with that. Not after...

-What did she say?

-She was sad. And relieved when things got better. She said if you ever want to talk to her you should call her. She asked if she could visit you but I said that's for you to decide.

-Did she tell you what happened?

-No. I didn't want that. And I'm not telling you now because I want to make you talk. But I thought it's time for you to know. Only thing she said was you weren't the only one making mistakes. And that she'd be happy if you ever wanna see her, now, as things have changed.

-Did you see him?

-I did, briefly. He has a lot from you.

-We met in law school. We were on and off for quite a while, years actually. I had just started with Dar, whom I had met while servicing as Delta Force in Afghanistan. He recruited me for the CIA, offering access to education I otherwise wouldn't had access to. I kind of thought CIA would be better than Delta Force, I was sick of wars. So little I knew. I went to Venezuela and we lost contact. When I came back she was with someone else but broke up with him. Not because of me, it was a coincedence. We spent my few weeks back on american soil together, both knowing it wouldn't last. And then she was pregnant. My venezuelan cover had just been blown, so I had the cartels on my heels and Dar who wanted me to go back and finish what I started there. She wanted to keep it. I offered to try to be around. We agreed to talk when I'd be back from Venezuela. And then that mission went down the drain. What was supposed to take weeks, took months, I had no chance to contact her, had been distracted deep into rebel areas in Columbia. I had to fake my death to came out of it and she said she could not have that in the baby's life. And I didn't fight her decision. I went back on missions and kept sending her money until she married and said she didn't want it. End of story. I saw her once when the boy was four. So, I didn't harm her or the boy, in case you were fearing that.

-Of course I did not. How could you think that? It's just, I didn't go to see her to snoop out things you decided to keep private. I went there because,...

-Because you saw Brody dying.

-Yes. And because nobody ever bothered to let Jessica Brody know what happened, officially, that is.

-Wait. You are not telling me you...

-Not all of it. No. But I saw Mike Faber and told him he's dead and there won't be a report. And to call Lockhart to get a declaration of death and a death certificate. No date, no location, no cause of death. They had the right to mourn. 

-You had the right to mourn.

-Well, back then, you were the only one who bothered with a 'sorry for your loss'.

-I know. And I am still so sorry we couldn't do more for him that day.

-Sometimes I think he knew it was the end when he crossed the border. I didn't see it then. But I think he wanted to die as marine and that's what he did. So I guess he has no regrets and holds no grudge. At least that's what I hope. The last thing I told him was I was pregnant. He wasn't unhappy about it. That's what I'll tell Frannie one day. That she was welcome.

They fell silent, the latest revelations heavily between them. After a while she got up and left the room. When she hadn't come back after a few minutes he slowly followed her, bath and massage had done good, but still, it had been a long day and his legs were struggeling.

He found her in the living room, curled up in the dark on the couch. She was crying.

-Hey, hey, what is that? Talk to me, Carrie, please, cause I'm lost here. I'm no mind-reader. Please.

He lowered himself to the floor, right next to the couch, fully aware this might ruin all her massage efforts in no time.

-Carrie, you have to talk to me, please.

-I'm sorry, I didn't tell you sooner. And I'm sorry invading your privacy. But I...was afraid to tell you. And afraid what it might do to you.

She was sobbing.

-But I couldn't let this horrible video be the last thing she knows about you. When I made that decision I had no idea when, if, I'd ever be able to talk to you. If you'd ever be able to fucking talk again, that is. So I had to make that decision alone. And I did what I did because I couldn't carry on while thinking of her watching that video and nobody talks to her. But I don't wanna loose you.

Now he was really lost. He reached back to touch her and his hand landed somewhere between her shoulder and spine.

-Why would you loose me?

-Cause I crossed a line into something you never wanted to share with me.

-No. You never asked. And I didn't know how to talk about it. It hurt. And I'm really not proud on how I handled John's start into life. I fucked it up. But what you did...that was a beautiful thing to do, for Julia. Thank you.

-You're not mad?

-No. I'm sorry that you had to do this all by yourself. And I guess I only start to realize what you carried over all those months. But mad? No. Grateful to be with someone who has a bigger heart anybody would ever expect. Glad I still have a chance to meet Julia without her dying from a heart attack cause I do the Bobby Ewing.

At least she stopped sobbing. It was a mediocre joke but it had stopped the sobbing.

-And now, could you please help me back to bed? I know it should be reversed roles but I'm afraid that'll have to wait for a while.

When they were settled back in bed, he pulled her up on his chest.

-That's gonna be my last effort for today. And tomorrow morning I probably will not only want a massage but desperatly need one. But, I wish I could not just tell you but rather show you how much I love you and want you. I have no words for it. But there is not a single thing you could do which could make me stop loving you. I want you to know that. Understood?

-I am trying to get used to it. Okay?

-Well, I can be persistent. And you know what? The thingie is still in the bathroom and nobody can stop me now doing at least this.

And with that, he turned her on her back, determined to use the absence of Frannie to give her mum some pleasure she wouldn't accept when the girl was around.

-Just this, ok?, he murmured while searching his way under her shirt, back to her breasts, caressing them in the way he knew she liked most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My career as a TV watcher started in the 80s. Anybody not familiar with Bobby Ewing. Google: Bobby Ewing, death, shower.


End file.
